Brothers on a Hotel Bed
by Ellislash
Summary: An ill-advised bet turns into something neither of them expected. MATURE CONTENT. KxE, KxExN, PWP, coarse language, graphic sex. Unrelated to the song of the same name. I don't own anything that's Valve's.


Nobody else knew the true extent of their friendship. Both of them were perfectly normal (okay, maybe not Keith so much), perfectly righteous (at least gran'ma thought so), perfectly charming Savannah boys, who just happened to end up in the hospital a lot. Everyone in town admired the patience of their girlfriends, Kaylee and Lisa, who if you asked would tell you that their beloved hooligans were worth a little worry. Say what you would about their wild, red-blooded antics - Keith and Ellis knew how to treat a lady right.

Well, except for the cheating.

They didn't see it that way, of course; but after a particularly dangerous stunt, if neither of them needed stitches, the adrenaline and testosterone would kick in and they'd end up banging each other's brains out. It wasn't a big deal, and they never talked about it. It just happened.

That first time, when Keith narrowly avoided being cut in two by a circular saw in his uncle's garage, Ellis had been so relieved at his escape that he'd kissed the redhead smack on the mouth. There had been a moment of utter silence, save for the grinding buzz of the machinery - and then Keith had kissed him back. They'd fumbled at first, didn't quite know what they were doing, but the act played itself out and it was all right. Better than all right. Lying on the floor together after, sawdust sprinkled in their hair, they just accepted it for what it was: a bond of affection. Without speaking they got dressed, abandoned their project for the day and went home.

The next week Keith dodged a shotgun blast and they did it again.

Neither would ever admit to being queer. The thought didn't even occur to them. They were just best friends, brothers, closer than family, and physical intimacy had been a part of it since age fifteen. There wasn't anything odd about it, excepting perhaps the fact that even after eight years they still hadn't spoken word one about that facet of their relationship. Outside the time they actually spent making love, it may as well never have happened.

* * *

><p>One autumn night they went drinking with Dave. Their raven-haired friend was too smart to go with them on any insane escapades, but regular hanging out was acceptable and the three of them always set aside Fridays to chill at the bar. That evening they shot the breeze over bourbon and beer until around eleven, when through the haze of alcohol they spotted someone who didn't belong: a sharp-dressed man of about thirty who walked through the door like he owned the place. His suit was white and his hair was black, and when he ordered a scotch-on-the-rocks his voice clearly labeled him as a Yankee.<p>

"Dude looks like yew, Dave," Keith said from around his glass.

"If he looks like me, yew look like Ronald Mc-fuckin'-Donald, ya ginger," their third musketeer replied with a playful shove. "Hair color ain't everythin'."

Ellis just chuckled as his buddies squabbled. The three of them had been the subject of "a blonde, a brunette and a redhead" jokes for years; never mind that he wasn't really blonde, actually, it just looked that way in the sun, and Keith wasn't a ginger because the barber called it 'auburn' or something, and Dave wasn't a brunette but he didn't know if there was a word for somebody with _black_ hair…

"Woah, check it out!" Keith broke off giving Dave a noogie to gape openly at the pool table.

The newcomer stood there, cool as you please, while two burly dockworkers menaced him with cue sticks. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but the smirk on the Yankee's face said it all. He gestured carelessly at the table and picked up a cue of his own.

"Aww, we ain't gonna get a fight," Ellis said with disappointment as one of the toughs set up for a game of 8-ball.

"I ain't so sure," Dave commented, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. "Looks ta me like that slick's gonna clean 'em out, an' they ain't gonna be too happy 'bout it."

"Let's go watch th' game," Keith said brightly, bouncing to his feet.

Half the bar seemed to have the same idea. The three young men jostled their way to the front, Ellis ending up with the best spot because he was short enough for people to see over his head. He gave the outsider a cursory glance before focusing on the table, and got a little shiver. The look on the man's face was terrifying.

In short order the fancy guy had thoroughly trounced his opponent. With an ice-cold smirk he held out a hand and twitched his fingers, a demanding little come-hither that was met with a furious scowl. The dockworker looked like he'd rather punch the smaller man than pay what he'd wagered; but with so many people watching, all the fight went out of his shoulders. Grudgingly he opened his wallet and counted a stack of bills into the victor's palm.

"Come on, darlin', don't be like that," the Yankee mocked with a passable drawl, then resumed his northern accent as he tucked the money away. "A bet's a bet. No hard feelings, eh?"

"I dunno whuss' like where yer from, _pal_, but 'n 'Vanna we's men've our word," the loser slurred, slouching as though he wished things were otherwise. "Ain't gonna beat m'way outuv it."

"And that, my friend, is exactly why I'm here," the newcomer said with a predatory smirk, then turned to face the assembled crowd. "Anybody else feeling lucky?"

"Let's get outta here 'fore those guys start any trouble," Dave muttered, tugging at his friends' arms. They didn't move.

"Naw, man, I wanna watch," Ellis replied, judging the threat level to be acceptable.

Keith didn't respond to either of them. The pool shark's startlingly green eyes were fixed on his own hazel ones with a burning intensity that the redhead couldn't resist. He brushed past his shorter companion, daring – as usual – to do what nobody else had the balls for.

"I'm game."

Dave covered his eyes with a hand, despairing of his foolhardy friend. Instead of arguing he squeezed Ellis' shoulder and left, having no intention of sticking around for the fireworks that inevitably ensued whenever Keith did something of questionable intelligence.

"I ain't got much ta bet with," the daredevil muttered when he peeked into his wallet, but laid a handful of small bills down anyway. His opponent looked at them with one disbelieving eyebrow raised, and shook his head.

"I don't play for nothing, sport. Keep your allowance for the candy shop."

"Don'tcha gimme that, city slick," Keith retorted indignantly, snatching his money back up. "Starin' like ya were, that's a challenge, an' I ain't backin' down. Name yer price."

The newcomer looked him over, emerald gaze scrutinizing every inch of scarred skin. Their corner of the bar was dead quiet and Ellis worriedly held his breath, trying not to let his imagination run away with him. Momma always said not to talk to strangers...

And then those piercing eyes were on him, casing his body and drilling into his skull. They left him breathless and primed for a fight – but it lasted only for a matter of seconds, and before he could react it was over.

"All right," the suit said when his attention returned at last to Keith. "You look like you can handle yourself in a scrap. If I win, you and your hillbilly buddy over there get to be my hired muscle for a week..."

"Woah, hey, leave El outta this," the redhead interrupted defensively, but he himself was interrupted by his friend's hand as it landed on his shoulder.

"S'okay, man," Ellis said as he stepped forward. Those serpent's eyes locked on him again and he got the rush, not unexpected this time, but just as intense and utterly exhilarating. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but spending longer under that gaze sounded like the best idea ever.

"Fine," Keith said tightly. "But if I win, y'all gonna hand over fifteen grand an' th' keys ta whatever fancy-ass ride yew got parked out there."

"Deal," the northerner agreed smoothly as a whisper ran through the crowd. He lazily reached for the chalk, smug as you please, and watched Keith set up the rack with darkly hooded eyes.

It didn't take long for Ellis to realize what a dumb idea this was. His brother was no slouch at pool, but the Yankee was in a league of his own. Keith only managed to score because his opponent had let him break; as soon as he missed, his turn was over. The shark never let him have another.

"You're not half bad, I'll give you that," he commented, lining up a shot. "I almost feel guilty, doing this-" _smack_ went the cue, _thud_ went the balls in their pockets. "-But not enough to stop."

Keith ground his teeth in frustration, but could only watch as all the solids disappeared like water down a drain. He caught Ellis' worried blue eyes and mouthed an apology, which was met by a crooked smile and resigned shrug. They'd got themselves into another mess, and they'd just have to get themselves back out.

"You two, pay your tab and come with me," the suit ordered them as the eight-ball sank. "There's some other debts I gotta collect."

The crowd parted to let the young men pass. Resigned, they tossed some money down on the bar without bothering to glance at the check and silently followed their new boss out into the street.

"Aw, _shit_, man! _That's_ what y'all was playin' for?" whined Ellis when he saw which car the northerner was angling towards.

"Hush it, El," grumbled Keith, already plenty disappointed in himself but fast growing joyful at the sight of their ride. "Least-ways we're gonna get ta drive in it, huh?"

The jet-black Sesto Elemento flashed its lights and raised its wings at a touch of the key-fob. The mechanics stood and stared, practically worshiping the sleek machine as it unfolded to let its driver in. His white suit glowed against the dark red leather.

"Get cozy, kids, she's only got two seats."

The powerful purr of the engine snapped them from their reverie. Keith and Ellis glanced at each other and made a mad dash for the car, each wanting to be the first to touch its glory.

"Oh, man, lookit-!"

"I know, I know, an' th'-!"

"Lord Almighty, she's-!"

"Ho-lee _shit_ there's even-!"

"All right, all right, settle down!" the Yankee snapped, trying to curb their enthusiasm. "Keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, starting _now_."

He pushed the button that closed the doors, which started to glide shut and forced the young men to squeeze fully into the passenger's seat. They were still too excited about being in a Lamborghini to notice the cramped quarters (not that they'd have minded, in all honesty) or spare a thought for where the hell they were headed. Ellis' Momma would have keeled over dead had she known that her sweet-peach was getting into a stranger's car, limited edition or no.

But he was, quite frankly, having the time of his life. Somewhat drunk and cuddled up to his best friend in the most exquisite automobile made by man was more or less Ellis' definition of Heaven, and he knew Keith felt the same. They'd likely have jumped each other's bones out of sheer exuberance if they'd been alone; but the driver's presence kept them decent for the time being.

He took them to a nice hotel on the fringe of the city, one of the last real skyscrapers before the area dissolved into suburbs. The place wasn't too far from Keith's apartment, and the view from the northerner's penthouse suite was nearly as impressive as the room itself. It almost made up for the fact that they had to leave the car to get there. Almost, but not quite; and the boys chattered ecstatically at each other from the moment their boots hit asphalt.

"Didja feel th' way she made that corner?"

"Hells yeah, an' fer havin', what, five hundred horses-?"

"Six," interjected the northerner smugly.

"Hoo-ee, even better! Fer that much power she sure runs quiet!"

"Aw, man, an' th' interior..."

"Ooh, don' get me started!"

"But she's _gorgeous_!"

"I _know_!"

They squealed like groupies all the way up to the room, and by the time they got there the Yankee's patience had run out.

"All right, kids, listen up," he snapped, slamming the door behind them. They jumped, startled into paying attention and suddenly feeling kinda scared – but the suit just started pacing, and didn't come near. "There's a very rich asshole in town who owes me a lot of money, and you're going to help me get it. Play this right, you won't even get your hands dirty. Play it wrong, someone could get hurt."

If his eyes had been intense before, now they could slay a dragon with a glance. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, engraved with an intricate pattern that glinted in the light. Both young men instantly froze, quite terrified; but he merely screwed on a silencer and tucked it away again.

"Stay here," he growled. "There's a couple things I need to take care of, then I'll be back to go over the details."

"Uh..." Ellis began nervously as the gunslinger turned to leave. "Wh... who..."

The northerner paused, then glanced back with the warmest smile they'd seen from him yet.

"Nick."

The door closed after him with a soft scrape.

Keith exhaled as though he'd been holding that breath his whole life, and collapsed onto the king-sized bed with a grunt. The booze was still messing with his head, but he was sober enough to know that this was a mighty big pickle they – he – had gotten themselves into. He sat up on the edge of the mattress and buried his face in his hands.

"Sorry, brother."

"Aw, don'tchu worry none," Ellis said reassuringly, and turned to face his friend with a smile growing on his face. "Hell, whatever happens, we rode inna Lambo! How cool is that?"

The redhead looked up with a sheepish grin.

"Purdy damn awesome."

"C'mon, she's made a' _carbon fiber_! That's gotta be, like, crazy light or somethin'."

"True, true... Betcha with six hundred horses she'll do sixty in three seconds."

"Two."

"Naw, no way...!"

They lost themselves in car talk again, this time with nobody to stop them. They argued about the chassis design, the exhaust system, the rear-view camera, the headrests – every detail of the vehicle got them more and more excited and less and less concerned about their dangerous predicament. Then they got around to discussing the stick shift, and with a hungry groan Ellis launched himself at Keith, pushing him down on the mattress to kiss him fiercely. The redhead responded, all raging hormones and energy; and seconds later his shirt was on the ground, exposing a muscular chest ravaged by scars.

Ellis wiggled out of his boots with a practiced kick while he gently dragged his fingers across the battered skin before him. Here was the biggest gator bite, and here the marks of a bear's claws; the shining pink expanse of an old bullet wound was complimented by the purple spatter of a small acid burn, a paler ghost of which Ellis had in mirror image from hugging his chemically tainted friend too soon. Here was the shrapnel from their ill-fated cheese cannon, and there from the frag grenade; that burn was the result of an all-too-successful thermite experiment; and a lacework of cuts and slashes wove through it all, tracing intricate patterns across his ribs. Ellis found the whole quite beautiful, especially since he'd been there to see the tapestry grow every step of the way.

Keith squirmed under his friend's tender lips. He tossed the ever-present blue hat aside and gripped the hair underneath tight, long fingers twining possessively through the toasty brown curls. His other hand forced Ellis' shirt up and raked sharp nails down his abs. The feeling drew a small moan from the dominant man, which in turn spurred the redhead to arch his back and grind their hips together. Both of them moaned at that, and not quietly.

Breathing hard and shallow through his nose, Keith pushed off his pants before letting his spine relax. Ellis let one hand trail down his friend's narrow waist, until he made contact with the familiar length that was already hot and throbbing beneath him. The redhead groaned and bucked upwards again, eagerly forcing himself into the waiting palm. He also started working at the button on Ellis' jeans, fumbling blindly and failing to concentrate what with all the stimuli bombarding his mind.

Ellis gave him a gentle stroke before helping to take his own clothes off. Soon they were both completely naked, muscular bodies trembling with adrenaline, and Keith pushed himself up off the mattress to try and flip them over. Ellis resisted, wanting to be on top tonight, and held him down by the shoulder. Instantly they were wrestling, fighting affectionately for the upper hand with bites and kisses liberally interspersed between struggles.

Keith was taller and more flexible, but Ellis was stronger; and though he enjoyed the tussle, eventually he couldn't hold back anymore. He brought his solid weight to bear in earnest and firmly pinned the redhead down, rough but loving. With no hesitation he thoroughly licked his fingers, then attacked the nerves of Keith's neck with his teeth as he gently let his hand fall. The young man's puckered entrance yielded to insistent pressure and the rest of that scarred body went tense, emitting a low gasp by that made Ellis' heart – among other things – ache with desire.

In spite of the blood rushing out of his head he went slowly, circling a single finger for a while before trying a second. Keith moaned at the stimulation, muscles clenching and relaxing and spasming when his prostate was brushed. It didn't take long for him to lose control. He escaped the restraining hand, scooted up, and bent forward to wrap his mouth around Ellis' rock-hard erection.

It was a good thing that the penthouse was the only room on that floor, because the ensuing exclamation would definitely have woken the neighbors. Ellis nearly passed out as the redhead's tongue danced around his flesh, caressing the soft skin and flicking at his frenulum with shuddering precision – not even his girlfriend knew her way around a blowjob better. The daredevil teased him mercilessly, picking up speed and intensity only to slow right back down again, sucking hard and licking soft in equal measure. When Keith felt his partner's pulse quicken he pulled away, and with a last juicy swipe across the head resettled himself on his back.

Ellis saw the mischievous, eager twinkle in his friend's eyes and understood the request behind them. He arranged himself between the redhead's legs, hoisting one calf up over his shoulder for a better angle. With his other hand he spread the slippery mixture of saliva and precum more thoroughly over his skin, and gently - ever so gently - pressed himself into Keith.

Their fevered moans echoed together. Ellis couldn't close his eyes at first, too fixated on his friend's expression of bliss as he slowly rotated his hips. That hot, tight, full feeling of physical joining was only part of the pleasure they felt; they were happy simply to be with each other, to be that close and share that much. As he got gradually deeper Ellis bent forward, just enough to plant a desperately tender and incongruously chaste kiss onto Keith's scruffy cheek. Then their hips met, and the redhead pushed back to force harder contact.

Ellis groaned, unable to keep his eyes open as a surge of heat burst across him. He drew back, shivering at the wet friction between them, then thrust forward suddenly when Keith grabbed his ass and _pulled_.

"_Hohhh_god," the redhead gasped, face flushing brighter than his hair. Ellis, bones turning to jelly, took the hint. Muscles straining, he straightened up and gave his friend what he wanted: long, deep thrusts with an extra kick at the end, just a little to the left.

"_Haah_, oh, ho-lee- _ah_!"

"Shh, Ellis gotcha," he murmured, running his hand down Keith's thigh soothingly.

He made love to him long and slow, head in the clouds, focusing more on his partner's needs than his own. Every gasp and twitch was familiar, each expression lucid. Gradually he increased his pace, finding it harder and harder to focus as the sweet sensation threatened to overwhelm him. Keith's ears began to turn red, a sure sign he was approaching his end; but just as Ellis reached out a hand to help him over the line the hotel room lock clicked open.

They froze.

Nick quickly shut the door behind him, hooded eyes fixed on the sight and a lecherous smirk twisting his features. He quite deliberately removed his white jacket and hung it up in the shallow closet by the door, apparently unsurprised by what he'd walked in on.

"Perfect timing," he purred. Both young men stared in terror as he withdrew condoms and a bottle of lube from the plastic bag he carried.

"Wh... you... th' fu-" stammered Ellis, scrambling away from his friend as they both tried to cover themselves. The Yankee grinned.

"New deal," he said smoothly, toying with a foil wrapper. "Forget helping me for a week. How's one night sound?"

"Shit, man, not like _that_!" Keith yelped, voice cracking a little. "Whaddaya think, we're _queer_ or somethin'?"

"Sure seems that way to me."

"Yew don't know us!" the ashamed young man cried angrily, and gestured at the items in the older man's grasp. "That _ain't_ what I agreed ta-"

"Y'all never needed us fer muscle, didja?" Ellis interrupted, voice quiet. "If that's all ya wanted you'da made th' bet with those brutes ya played earlier..."

"You're smarter than you look, sport," Nick cut him off, chuckling indulgently. "Sorry about the scam. I figured down South wasn't the best place to make propositions in public."

"Well we ain't stickin' around, so yew c'n jus' ferget th' whole thing," Keith growled, fishing for his pants. "Go fuck someone else, ya fag!"

That little outburst seemed to take some of the wind from the northerner's sails. His confident demeanor slipped, touching his lips with a frown.

"No need to be rude, fireball," he said, somewhat disappointed. "I thought you'd caught the hint, back at the bar. If I was wrong, just go home. No hard feelings."

Ellis didn't know which one of them to look at. His wits were still scrambled by their coitus interruptus, and even half-mast from shock he longed for completion. There was no denying his desire for Keith, of course; but something about the raven-haired con artist made his blood rise. Maybe it was the way he'd so easily spotted that the young men were 'different'; perhaps it was his cool, dangerous confidence or clearly glamorous lifestyle that was attractive. Hell, it could be the alcohol still swirling through his system – but for whatever reason, those vivid green eyes made him feel as reckless as his best friend on an unlucky day.

"Hey, Keith, slow down a minute," he said, extending a hand to prevent the redhead from getting dressed. The recently recovered boxers fell back to the floor.

"Yew can_not_ be serious."

"Yew don't gotta touch 'im," Ellis whispered, leaning in to plant a kiss just behind Keith's tattered ear. "Go on home if ya wanna, but I'm stayin', an' I promise I'll take care'a ya if yew do too."

"Who's crazy now?" the reluctant mechanic grumbled, then moaned quietly as a trail of kisses progressed down the side of his neck. He was all kinds of uncomfortable with the situation but sure as hell wasn't going to leave Ellis alone with this gun-toting freak... and if he was staying anyway...

"Yew better know whatcher doin'," he said firmly, casting a jealous glare at the Yankee before his eyes shut of their own accord. They tended to do that when his more recently healed wounds got licked – in the literal sense, at least.

"Not a goddamn clue," Ellis chuckled, and straightened up. His blue eyes widened as he caught sight of Nick, who looked like a big cat drawn up to pounce. Every line of his body betrayed desperate restraint, as though the air itself was holding him back. Ellis felt reassured even as the instinct to flee rose in his chest – this man could easily pull out his gun and force his will on them both, so the fact that he wasn't pushing gave the mechanic hope.

"Yew got one of us, at least," he informed the con in a firm but nervous voice, and gulped as those emerald eyes flashed darkly at his friend.

"Heading out, fireball?"

"Hell naw, city slick, I ain't leavin' him," Keith rebutted, shifting protectively. "Yew even _think_ a' hurtin' El, I'll scar yer pretty face up worse'n mine."

"Fair enough, killer, but that won't be necessary," Nick said, slipping out of his shoes. He approached the bed where the young men sat, and stopped his hand just short of Ellis' bicep. "You're really okay with this?"

The more willing southerner swallowed hard and nodded. Permission granted, warm fingertips landed softly on his arm to trace the lines of his tattoo with a delicate touch. They followed the ink up over his shoulder and down the right side of his chest, skimming lightly enough to make him shiver.

Keith watched for a moment, brooding, but gradually let his dignity-saving blankets fall. He half-crawled his way the couple of feet across the bed to sit at Ellis' back, softly kneading his shoulders and keeping a wary eye on the older man.

Nick guided the mechanic's chin up with a finger, drinking in the slightly panicked anticipation shining from those saphhire eyes. He'd had more than enough lovers, men and women, to know how to ease someone's fear; so very, very gently he leaned in to set his lips against his new partner's temple. The musky smell of his hair nearly drove the conman mad, but he kept himself under control for the kid's sake.

He caressed Ellis' face, grazing his skin with tiny kisses as he worked his way down. The younger man hesitantly raised a hand to return the gesture, brushing against Nick's sandpapery cheek as though he'd never seen a five-o'-clock shadow before. It had more of an effect on him than might be expected; with a violent shudder Ellis gripped the blue shirt's collar and slammed their mouths together, tongue drowning desperately in the flavors of scotch and vanilla.

Hazel and green met in incredulous shock as the two other men stared at each other over his shoulder. Keith shook his head with a helpless shrug and Nick closed his eyes to reciprocate the kiss, humming appreciatively. If the hick was already getting over his uncertainty, that was just fine with him.

The redhead squirmed jealously for a moment, unable to tolerate the situation, but Ellis felt it and came to his rescue. He reached back to grab Keith's hand and squeezed it tight, then guided it around his waist to stroke at his recovering hard-on. It didn't take much encouragement for the more reluctant Georgian to get into the role, and he rested his cheek against the flexing muscles in front of him while coaxing his friend's blood back into a frenzy. The action stirred his own loins in spite of his trepidation, spurring him to start touching himself as well.

Ellis didn't know what the fuck was going on. Up until this point only women could get him truly, ragingly horny. The Keith thing was different - don't ask him how, it just was – so when Nick's kisses drove him unexpectedly wild he also got profoundly confused. The whole thing was... _wrong._ He was living the nightmare scenario that children everywhere were perennially warned about: against all his better judgment and moral standards, he was drunk and getting physical with an older man he didn't know.

Then the testosterone spiked, and none of it mattered one bit. He was cradled between two beautiful men, Keith holding him protectively and Nick exploring him hungrily. His heart roared in his ears and beat his brain into submission, amplifying the sparks that crackled through his nerves at the touch of skin on skin. His friend's lazy strokes hastened his arousal even further and he scrabbled at the conman's shirt, wrestling with the unfamiliar buttons in a suddenly desperate attempt to get the damn thing off.

Nick smiled into their kiss, extremely pleased with himself, and helped to get his clothing out of the way. This would make a total of seven (allegedly) straight guys he'd successfully convinced to take a walk on the wild side; so far, he had a perfect record of keeping them there. When the blue silk garment fell open he felt a pair of large, strong hands slide around his torso to draw him close, and he took the opportunity to go for the hick's neck. Those plush lips released a wavering groan as his teeth found nerves in the space between wiry muscles.

Ellis gasped and clutched the Yankee tighter. His age had obviously granted experience; the trembling shocks brought forth by his mouth were nearly as delicious as those Keith could evoke, and as the older man judged the effect of his treatment he quickly surpassed even that high benchmark. The blue-eyed mechanic couldn't keep quiet as goosebumps flashed across his skin, and his transported sounds of pleasure caused both of his partners' libidos to soar.

Keith was torn between jealousy and desire – not the baser variety the others were experiencing, but the profound and unconditional love he felt only for his best friend. With a soft moan he propped his chin on Ellis' unoccupied shoulder and nuzzled behind his ear.

"Don'tchu ferget me, El," he whispered. "I c'n take care a' yew, too..."

The rough murmur drove him completely over the edge. Ellis squirmed away from both his suitors, clearing enough space to stand up at the edge of the bed and turn around. With his muscles flexing attractively he dragged Keith close, then glanced back over his shoulder to fix Nick with a nervous, glittering, almost pleading glare.

The northerner understood instantly. Though a little disappointed that the foreplay was cut short he really had no right to complain, and his pants were pretty tight by now anyway. He peeled them off with a sigh, and watched the young lovers as he got himself ready. With a wry smile he tore open a condom; those two could go bareback with each other, but Nick had been around the block too many times to cut corners on safety.

Neither of the Georgians noticed the older man's preparations - they were too busy picking up where they'd left off. Ellis spat into his palm to slick himself up, and once more sheathed his sensitive length inside Keith's yielding breech. This time he skipped the slow start, jumping immediately to a rhythm much more demanding than usual.

The redhead bit his lip to keep from screaming, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught as his partner angled directly for his prostate over and over again. The thick, powerful organ filled him to bursting and he couldn't manage to speak, just groaned and gasped in time with the explosions of painful, incredible, all-consuming pleasure.

Ellis drowned in impossibly delicious movement, oblivious to everything but how good it felt to be pounding into that hot, tight space. For a while he was lost in euphoria, and only opened his eyes when he felt another body close behind him. It was then he noticed how red and breathless Keith was, and though his instincts demanded more he slowed down the thrusting of his hips. He glanced back at Nick and nodded in response to his raised eyebrow, then bowed forward to pepper his friend with apologetic kisses. He supported himself with an elbow, and with more familiar tenderness dragged his other hand down the redhead's trembling side. Ellis whispered nonsense and stroked his skin the same way one would soothe a skittish horse, for his own benefit as well as Keith's – the smoky smell of that auburn hair and texture of layered scars distracted him from the feel of another man's fingers slowly working their way inside his body.

Nick couldn't believe how goddamn lucky he'd gotten tonight, but didn't have a neuron to spare thinking about it. At the redneck's signal he started to get him ready, biting his tongue to keep from moaning at how tight and strong the muscles were. The lube on his fingers proved invaluable as he curled and scissored them, fighting every step of the way to make sure his eventual entrance wouldn't be too painful. Ellis somehow managed to keep from clenching down, a small miracle given his obvious nerves, but even without that added difficulty the northerner had to use all his art to properly prepare him.

By the time Nick was done it was Keith who was soothing Ellis, running shaking fingers through his sweat-damp curls and distracting him with gentle kisses. The redhead's silver tongue now worked a different kind of magic, stealing his friend's grunts of discomfort before they could be uttered and caressing those swolen lips with enough passion to make himself light-headed.

Ellis relaxed when those invading fingers retreated but jumped at a touch on his shoulder, making Keith's eyes fly open in pleasant shock at the resulting thrust deep inside. He glanced back to see Nick give him another questioning look, this one only thinly veiling an expression of pure, desperate lust. It sent a tremor through the mechanic, strong enough to make poor Keith twitch again; but in his head he was way past the point of no return, so with a temerous nod at the black-haired conman he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to brace himself.

It hurt anyway.

Nick couldn't stop the exultant groan that tore from his chest as he guided his lube-slick cock into the southerner's ass. He could barely keep himself from immediately starting to fuck the kid into next week – only a tiny, pained whimper stopped him. Instead he froze for a moment, letting Ellis get used to it while he got himself under control. After what he judged to be long enough he gyrated a bit, holding that glorious rump firmly and admiring the sight of his own dick sliding between its cheeks.

He steadily increased the motion, absolutely out of his mind and turned on so fucking hard he was afraid he might come before they'd even really started. The hick's ass was tight as a virgin's but experienced enough not to fight Nick's intrusion, even as more and more stiff flesh pressed in with every gentle drive. The older man slowed at the first sign of pain but did not stop, testing his self-discipline to the limit with even that small concession. It just felt too damn good.

Ellis' body practically vibrated with sensation. He was now sandwiched between the others, top and bottom at the same time, all three of them linked intimately together in the most sinfully delicate of chains. He groaned helplessly as Nick continued to rock into him, the pain easing but not yet gone. Keith pulled him back down to cradle his head, fingertips tracing the curve of his neck tenderly in stark contrast to the Yankee's hands, which gripped him so hard he'd probably have a bruise in the morning. It was too much, far too much to handle all at once, but there wasn't a thing he could do about it even if he wanted to. He just took it, impossibly delicious pressure building inside him with every thrust, until through the storm of buzzing electricity he felt Keith's racing heartbeat under his ear.

With great effort Ellis raised himself off his friend's chest. The movement gave Nick a second's pause, but when the mechanic drew back he only drove the conman's dick farther inside himself. Before either of them could do more than gasp he rolled his hips forward again, giving Keith more of what he wanted. The redhead moaned happily, and when Ellis retreated to do it again Nick bucked opposite, sheathing himself completely with a violent _smack_ of skin on skin. Ellis cried out as his protstrate was struck dead-on. The impact exploded through his body, making his spine arc and eyes fly wide open as all his nerves shattered into bliss. Keith didn't get the chance to ask if he was okay; his friend made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl, and started to move like his life depended on it.

Relieved as a raptured soul, Nick finally let go. He got a good grip on one of the redneck's shoulders and fucked for all he was worth, moving contra to Ellis' own thrusts for maximum penetration. It didn't take long for him to start hitting the kid's sweet spot every time, tearing a stream of heavily accented curses from those plush lips. He kept his eyes open so he could watch it all: his own dick plunging deep, over and over into that perfect southern ass; Ellis' muscular back, shining with sweat; fireball, clearly not as straight as he claimed, squirming with pleasure at his lover's treatment of him. It was a sinner's paradise.

Ellis couldn't tell which felt better, the intoxicating surge of bliss when he pushed forward or the sharp blast of ecstasy when he pulled back. It didn't matter anyway - he rocked his body hard and fast enough to blend it all together into a single marvellous, maddening, mind-blowing frenzy. Under him Keith feverishly jacked himself off, ears turning red again as Ellis screwed him roughly into the mattress. He groaned and panted and shuddered, muscles tensing around his partner's assaulting cock and only amplifying the harsh friction that sent pulses of unbearable pleasure raging up his spine.

The sudden tightness raised Ellis' already desperate need to impossible heights. Nick kept pounding mercilessly into him, low voice panting hoarsely at his back, fucking with a cruel violence that still felt sweet somehow. Even shielded by thin latex his dick rubbed all the right places, grinding deep to stimulate nerves the mechanic never knew existed. In turn Ellis threw himself into Keith with a vengeance, making the redhead scream in a way he'd never done before.

"Oh god... Ah, _shit_ El, c'mon, _oh_, more... more, m-more... _FUCK_!"

Keith arched right off the bed, head thrown back in a silent shout as he came hard and long. Thick, pearly shots glazed his abs and he strugled to breathe, face exultant and radiating utter satisfaction.

The sight, sound, and feel of his orgasm divided Ellis' brain by zero. He followed his friend over the edge with a delirious howl, body racked by paroxysms of release as unholy rapture claimed him. The world turned a blinding white while dark stars pierced his eyes and liquid lightning cascaded through his mind to scour him clean, leaving him both sublimely happy and too weak to stand. He slumped forward over Keith, face buried in his hair, heedless of the sticky mess now painted across their stomachs.

When the redneck started to come Nick picked up their pace, going all-out, taking whatever he needed to finish at the same time. His legs stung with the effort but it was more than worth the fleeting pain; as Ellis cried out to heaven the conman loosed a dirge from hell, a deep groan ripped from his chest by the power of his climax. The fire burned him alive from the inside out, a magnificent blaze of glory that flared sparks from his skin and boiled the blood in his veins. It cast him high into the air and he fluttered like dark golden ashes on the way down, reluctantly fading back to the present with labored breaths and a roaring heart.

Nick couldn't help but smile at the young lovers, collapsed with exhaustion over the edge of the bed. He withdrew as carefully as he could, eyes pinched at the now too-intense friction against his still throbbing flesh. Without a word he went to clean up, splashed some water in his face and ran a shaky hand through his hair. The man in the mirror smirked tiredly back at him.

Keith and Ellis recovered slowly, sobering up as their wits came crawling back. Suddenly they could think clearly again, and knew it was past time to go home. While the pool shark was gone they stretched their trembling limbs, wiped themselves off with a handful of tissues and started to dress – all in silence. Water ran in the bathroom and they sat on the mattress for a moment, then at the same instant rose and made for the door.

They never spoke of that night again.


End file.
